Champagne Problems

Batfam x Neglected Tomie Reader

English version

In the Wayne Manor, there was a room without history. It had a small window, a neatly made bed, and a mirror without fingerprints. And in that room lived her.

She didn’t have a cape.

She didn’t have gadgets.

She didn’t have battle scars or soul wounds that others could see as worthy. She only had a face.

And in that house of masks, that meant nothing.

Since she was little, she learned not to make noise. When she walked through the carpeted hallways, she tiptoed, as if the echo of her steps were a crime.

When she spoke, she did it in a soft voice, afraid of interrupting the conversations between the heroes. When she laughed... she stopped. No one laughed with her.

She didn’t belong to the "team." She didn’t have official training. She wasn’t Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, or the new girl from the orphanage with a perfect memory. She was just the daughter. The mistake. The useless shadow.

Her mother had died giving birth to her. Bruce raised her out of duty. Alfred was polite but distant. And the rest... simply didn’t see her.

"Since when has she been here?" Tim once asked aloud, not realizing she was right behind him.

Jason mocked, "She's always been here. She's like a nice piece of furniture.Looks good, but isn't useful for fighting."

And they all laughed.

She didn’t.

She just looked at her hands, delicate and soft, then lowered her head.

Bruce never trained her. He said he didn’t want to "put her in danger," but everyone knew he didn’t trust her strength. He didn’t consider her useful. He taught her to keep silent. To observe. To read books instead of reading bodies in combat. And she did. She learned to see without being seen. To understand without asking. To lock everything she felt in a corner of her chest where no one could enter.

But there was one thing she inherited: the gaze. That deep and sharp look. The one that made the guilty tremble. Hers was different, yes. Softer. More beautiful. But just as hypnotic. And no one in the house dared to hold it for too long.

---

One day, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was fourteen years old.

She had the darkest eyes in Gotham.

She had lips as soft as silk.

She had skin that seemed sculpted. And she felt nothing. "What’s the point of being beautiful if no one sees you?"

Someone knocked on the door. It was Damian.

—Move, useless. Some of us have things to do.

She didn’t answer. She just lowered her gaze. But that night, she broke the mirror with her fist. She didn’t cry. She just bled.

---

Time passed. She turned fifteen. Then sixteen. She knew no one would go to her room on her birthday. She knew no one would say "I’m proud of you." She knew that, to them, she was a mistake without scars. So, she left.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t leave a note.

She didn’t seek drama.

She simply made the bed.Closed the door. And disappeared.

Bruce didn’t search for her. "If she wants to come back, she will," he said coldly. And the rest continued with their missions.

No one imagined she would find another way to exist.

And to shine.

---

First came the photos. Self-portraits on lonely streets. Her face surrounded by shadows. Her silhouette reflected in puddles. Her lips slightly parted as if whispering secrets. Someone found them. Shared them. And the world… listened.

“They call her the Marble Girl.”

They said she had an impossible face. Too symmetrical. Too pure.

But what attracted them the most wasn’t her beauty. It was what she hid.

A silent sadness.

A threat without violence.

A sweetness that was poisonous.

---

At seventeen, she was in Paris.

She signed contracts without giving her real name. She modeled without saying a word. And every time the camera focused on her, the world stopped. Not because she smiled.

But because it seemed she didn’t need to.

She denied it.

And that... drove them crazy.

---

She lived alone. In a small glass apartment with black curtains.

She slept little. Dreamed a lot. And never looked back at Gotham.

She never mentioned her family. Not because she hated them. But because... they no longer existed for her.

They had died the day they forgot her.And she... had been reborn.

---

One night, an artist asked to paint her face.

—You have something tragic about you —the woman said, as she traced her jawline—. Like a broken virgin. Or a sad goddess.

She just smiled, without answering. And when the painting was displayed, people cried in front of the canvas. They didn’t know why.

It just... hurt.

---

At eighteen, the world already knew her. Magazines. Art videos. Red carpets.

But never interviews.

Never words.Only that presence. Mysterious. Distant. Unreachable.

And then... Bruce saw her.

---

He was working in the Batcave when her image appeared on the screen. An irrelevant article. A gossip piece.

But there she was. Sitting in a velvet chair. Dressed in black. Surrounded by photographers. And smiling. That smile. Calm. Unbreakable.

Free. Bruce blinked.

—It can’t be… Dick looked down.

Jason clenched his fists.

Tim swallowed hard.

Damian, for the first time, said nothing.

Because they all remembered her. And she didn’t remember them.

—Why didn’t she come back? Dick murmured.

Jason clenched his fists. —Because we didn’t make her feel part of this.

Damian whispered: —She seems happy.

Bruce didn’t answer. He just looked at the screen. And inside, something broke.

It wasn’t guilt.

It wasn’t love.

It was fear.

Because she didn’t need them. And that... was unforgivable.

- Poor baby۶ৎ

BATFAM X NEGLECTED READER.

IMP: Sucide, child neglection, torture.

You were an orphan adopted by a wealthy man who later turned out to be Batman, yes you were full of joy and excitement. Who wouldn't be? To be apart of the Wayne family and to save people... That was every child dream.

They made you feel loved and wanted and you got addicted to that feeling... Because you've never felt so great before. You crave attention and validation, they're the one who introduced you to that feeling in the first place.

But as time past so did their affection and attention. Their adoration began to fade slowly and you cling onto the feeling with all your might but that was not enough. Nothing was enough.

Damian got introduced to the family, a new image for the picture. He was rude and opposite of you yet everybody love him... And you began to fade into the background.

Everybody love Damian, it doesn't matter if he was respectful or not... He didn't have to try so hard to have the spotlight unlike you, he didn't crave the light as much as you did but he still got it.

Your title of being Robin was rip from you.

It didn't even take a year for you to be replaced.

You felt like a baby who was being taught to walk and the moment another baby comes they completely let go of your hand. It was cruel and painful, you weren't ready to face the word yet.

You couldn't do anything, they were your family by paper whether you liked it or not.

Here you were sitting on the edge of a building letting the rain soaked your entire body.

Today you had a big fight with Bruce. It was a nasty fight that ended in him slapping you across the face...

It started out simple, you were jealous- envious of Damian... Because everytime he did even something as simple as putting back a book your achievements get hidden away. Not to mention on how his grade were much better than yours when he didn't even try.

You didn't even sleep a wink and he still was ahead of you and worst of them all everyone saw you as a slacker... It was not fair, you spent hour's and hours trying to be good at something but somebody in the family managed to be better.

You were tired of trying so you gave up, that day Damian was just straight up bullying you.

"You do realised blood like yours have no place in here? I suggest you take the easy way and leave... it'll be the trash taking itself out "

His word sting especially today... He did everything in his power to seperate you from the rest of the family and it was working.

Without any warning you threw a book at him and it hit him square in the face. It was a moment of anger you apologise profusely...

It's just... Damian always picked on you, called you names, ruin your birthday and... He took everybody away from you... Today was just a bad day in general because you overheard Alfred talking to Bruce about you.

Calling you difficult and how he wondered how you became such failure compared to your oh so perfect siblings.

You've been weeping for hours you can't stop yourself... It's been so long, it's been years. For year's you have been logging for your family to love you, the same people who took you by choice.

It was unfair, they hook you up to make you feel like you matter in reality you never matter, you were just a substitute.

You've tried, you definitely did tried... Why would someone who doesn't even want you in the first play choose you? Out of all the kid's in the orphanage they took you, they knew the responsibility... They took you as an accessory not as a person.

"Dammit..." you curse under your breath, your entire body was trembling, breath hot and messy... You couldn't stop the hiccup even when you cover your own mouth with your hands.

Every bad memories was surfacing, how everybody saw you as a spoiled child even tho they had it better than you could ever wish for. How everybody saw you as a headache.

You look pathetic, the same hero who saved people was now in need of help.

Before you could even finish crying you felt somebody hands on your body and before you could fight back a piece of febric was forcefully place on your nose. As you panicked you accidentally sniff the intoxicating smell.

It didn't take long for your body to react and shut down, you stumble on the ground laying there, your eyes bagan to shut themselves and before you could utter a word you saw the chilling smile of Joker.

When you woke up you were tied up, an old television infront of you... And the haunting figure of the man who have done this.

"What do you want?" You asked without hesitation, ignoring the throbbing pain of your head.

"Oh, simple... Just enjoy the show"

With that said he turn on the television with a press as he walk behind you and stood there, he gently place his cold hand's on your shoulder.

The video began to play, it was inside the manor during christmas... Everybody but you were present.

"As much as I like her... She's too full of herself. Oh and don't forget the 'Barbara is this great?' 'barbara can we please talk' blah blah blah... it's getting annoying- already is annoying"

"Oh definitely! She ruin the mood... That's why we... the best members of the family do thing's in secret"

"She asked me to kept this diary of her's a secret and God she's a crybaby... I've read the whole thing and I cannot stop laughing"

"Oh! C'mon this is a great tea! let's read it!"

"Isn't that invading her privacy?"

"... She's not here"

With that they began to read your personal diary where you wrote down your whole feelings. Your heart ache as they began to laugh at every word, you've given that Diary to Dick because you trusted him the most...

Another tape began to play. It was the previous gala...

It started out normal until they began to mock you... A desperate girl who would do anything for validation.

Each tape was about your own family mocking and talking behind your back... Calling you a desperate baby and how you need to grow up.

You've been crying hysterically.

You've never done anything in your life to hurt them it was the complete opposite... you praise and complement them but they were so willing to use your name for entertainment.

It hurt that none of your supposed family even like you...

"Nobody... love me? Why?"

"It's because you're just not supposed to be loved" Joker replied still smiling.

"I tried so hard.. but nobody care about me... Im not even a person to them..."

"Im a good student, im polite... I should be loved! it's unfair... I just wanted to be loved "

Life was cruel, it will always be towards you. It took your parents and left you stranded, the system wasn't great it took advantage of those who were vulnerable... Suddenly your life turned around to be loved and just to be betrayed by the same people who you called family.

"I deserve to be loved!... I just want my family to love me"

It was true you were just a baby at heart. You were impulsive and would jump at any opportunity to be acknowledged by your family...

Even Alfred doesn't like you, he barely even pick you up from school, made food you do not like and lectured you if you don't eat...Force eating was not fun.

Just like a baby you needed to be nurtured and cared for... Everybody got that except you.

Joker let you off free no torture atleast not physically.

"Dad... could we talk please?"

you asked outside the his office... You were desperately, your mind was being polluted and you need your father.

"Im busy"

Right, too busy saving everybody's else and watching you rot...

"Please... I need you"

you plead, you didn't want to face the truth... it scares you. Life was too hard on you.

"Im busy, go disturb Richard"

Disturb? right your whole existence was just to disturb everybody else from having a great time.

With that said you began to search for Richard...

Instead you bump into Jason his face was still plastered with the same old frown.

Jason used to adore you calling you his favourite infront of everybody else but now... He doesn't even recognise you or he pretend not to.

"Jay... could you please listen to me, life is really hard and today I enco-"

"Listen up princess"

he began, looking down at your small frame.

"Life is hard, everybody had it hard... Not everything is about you and unlike you, we don't bitch around... We deal with it"

Your hand's began to tremble, he was suffocating and scary especially when he's pissed off.

"We're not spoiled like you. This is why the rest of the family Don't like being around you... You always complain like a baby"

Before he could say more you left. You went straight to the library just to saw the rest cuddling together watching some movie.

"Excuse me?"

"Go away... we're having a family moment"

Damian spoke, the couch was facing the other side of the wall and they didn't even looked at you.

"Yeah... you're ruining the mood here"

"Can you get some popcorn tho?"

Right to them you were just a baby... spoiled to the core nothing more.

Your mind was polluted and your heart was aching badly, the word joker told you began to surface.

You walked towards the open window, the wire of the lamp cling onto your ankle... Without a thought you leap.

If the word doesn't want you why must you keep suffering?.

This is such a bad one im sorry.

Jackie first met you when she rushed into the college athletic trainers office to grab ice for her teammate, who didn’t get her hands up in time and took a soccer ball straight to the head. Being a Freshman, she wasn’t the most acquainted with being in that office or who the trainers were, but when she saw you she knew she had to make FREQUENT stops in. She stood there stuttering for a moment while looking at you, before she found her words and just shouted, “ICE!?” With some haste you went to the ice machine and grabbed her a bag, filling it and handing it to the girl, who responds even less gracefully with “Thanks, her face needs this!” Before running back to the field, hitting herself the entire way for not being smoother but at least she had a plan in mind.

She made herself a patient at the office very often, looking up every possible injury she could fake, that would land her in just enough ‘pain’ to get you to help her roll out or give her a muscle massage, WITHOUT ending up with someone calling an ambulance for her. And she ended up back in the office today, with her most flattering biker shorts and a ‘pulled hamstring’ that she just absolutely NEEDED your help with. However, catching you, in the empty room, while you were doing a workout of your own had unexpected consequences, Jackie had found.

After having you do all the ‘hands on’ work you normally do, you start to question why Jackie isn’t as talkative today, as she crosses and uncrosses her legs while sitting in the chair getting ready for her ice and stim. “Jackie, what’s up with you today, you’re super quiet?” you ask as you put the pads on her thigh, she has to suppress a whimper as her mind flashes with images of how you looked bench pressing, when she walked in earlier. “No reason.” She forces out through gritted teeth as she presses her thighs together. It was only then, while your hands were on the exposed skin of her thighs, that you noticed the wet mark, now present on Jackie’s shorts. Now all the instances of her asking you to lift her onto the table because her “knee hurt her far too much” for her to try herself or her flirting with you as you held her legs to roll them out, made a lot of sense.

no because jackie falling in love at first sight will never not be canon to me. i just know that she was considering keeping the bag of ice and was low key possessive of it when she had to give it to her team mate because you gave it to her. 100% considered grabbing the bag after the other girl was done with it because it was a gift. shes such a loser (affectionate)

jackie berating herself the whole way back for having the least smooth first meeting ever. she spends the entire walk back thinking about all the things she should have said instead. convinced she'd make a note on her phone full of flirty lines that she looks at right before she stops back in the office, but her mind goes blank every single time. she goes back into her room and screams into her pillow so often that her room mate is getting concerned about her lmao

jackie ignoring your advice about possibly getting inserts for her shoes because obviously somethings wrong if she keeps 'twisting' her ankle like this all the time. she's all "mhm, totally. 😍"

jackie showing up in her most flattering outfit, a face full of makeup, her best smelling perfume, and her hair freshly washed and styled.

jackie bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood trying not to whine and moan while you touch her i just know it. you're giving her a massage and your thumb presses in just the right way and jackie gasps as she grabs at your wrist. she keeps glancing back and forth between your face and your hand and flushes bright red as she stutters out an apology. you're thinking you hurt her so you're like "was that too rough?" and her mind has gone straight to the gutter. she's done for, truly.

thinking about the absolutely mortified look on jackie's face when you catch sight of how wet she is. she's so embarrassed she can't even speak, eyes shut tightly so she doesn't have to see the look on your face.

you pause at the sight, considering her for a moment as your world view flips. yeah, you can work with this. you don't say anything at first, but you do make sure to spend extra time carefully applying the electrodes. you have to make sure the adhesive sticks, don't you? maybe you spend more time than you need to rubbing your thumb across the edges, but that's your business.

jackie's more than a little humiliated by the time she can leave, but she knows from the the smug look on your face that she'd come crawling right back if she had to. as she finally gets to the sanctuary that is her empty dorm room she glances down at the instructions you gave her to find your phone number written down at the bottom. she had something she desperately needed to take care of now that her dorm room would be empty for a few hours, but after that she'd definitely move to phase 2 in her seduction plan (she thinks she was sooo subtle about it lmaoo)

★- 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

☆ - YANDERE NATLAN VARIOUS X MEXICAN! READER

✦°• - 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇... a Mexican suddenly gets teleported into a random game called "Genshin Impact", and gets into the Nation Of War. She soon meets many interesting people but why are they acting crazy around her?

☆

☆°. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝗼𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝗼𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝗼𝐫, 𝐭𝗼𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐟𝗼𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝗺𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝗼𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐟𝗼𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬 ! 𝐈𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝗼𝗺𝐟𝗼𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝗼 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!

☆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 1 - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 2 - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 3 - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 4 - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 5 - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ??? - 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐓

☆

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ᵒᵖᵉⁿ): @salhanskkdbfkekfb

I DO NOT OWN GENSHIN IMPACY, ONLY THIS FANFIC.. ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO EXPECT SOME GRAMMAR ERRORS.

The price of justice

Batfam x neglected reader

What happens to a child that suffers neglect?

Why does a child have to suffer from their parents actions?

Why do they only regret it at the end?

"I don't want to live anymore..."

The dream was a tapestry of vibrant colors and impossible landscapes. I flew through fields of molten gold, danced with ethereal beings in a sky painted with swirling nebulae. It was a symphony of joy, a world where anything was possible.

Then, the colors dimmed, the landscape shifted. I found myself in a stark, grey room, the air thick with a palpable sense of sorrow. In the center, a child sat huddled on the floor, their tiny frame shaking with silent sobs. Their face, streaked with tears, was a picture of desolate despair. I tried to reach out, to comfort them, but my hand passed through their form, my voice swallowed by an impenetrable silence.

The child’s sobs morphed into a guttural wail, a sound that ripped through the dream's delicate fabric. It was a cry of utter loneliness, a desperate plea for solace. I felt a pang of sorrow, an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This child's despair felt so real, so palpable, it bled into the very core of my being.

Then, the child looked up. Their eyes, swollen with tears, met mine, and in that instant, I knew. The child was me. Not the me of now, but a younger version, a reflection of a past I had long suppressed. I recognized the worn, faded teddy bear clutched in their small hands, the same one I had carried everywhere as a child.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was the child, weeping in the corner, ignored, forgotten. The neglect I had experienced, the loneliness that had gnawed at my soul, it was all there, echoing in the child's despair. It wasn't a dream of another child; it was a reflection of my own forgotten pain.

The dream dissolved. I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding, the image of my younger self etched on my mind. The room was dim, the silence oppressive. I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine, a chilling awareness that the child's pain wasn't just a dream. It was a reminder of a reality I had buried deep within myself, a painful truth I had tried to forget.

The dream, a haunting echo of my past, had cracked open a dam of long-suppressed memories. They flooded back, a torrent of painful moments, each one a sharp shard of neglect cutting through my heart.

Fifteen years of my life replayed in my mind, a painful montage of missed birthdays, forgotten promises, and empty apologies. I saw myself, a small, hopeful child, yearning for attention, for a simple hug, a kind word. But my pleas were met with indifference, my needs dismissed, my existence overlooked.

I remembered the holidays spent alone, the birthday cake left untouched, the Christmas morning devoid of presents. I remembered the silence, the empty spaces where laughter should have been, the hollowness where love should have resided.

Each memory was a fresh wound, a reminder of the small, fragile child I once was, a child who had craved the warmth of a loving embrace, the comfort of a shared laugh, the simple reassurance that I mattered. I had been a shadow, an unseen presence in a house that felt more like a prison.

Pity washed over me, a wave of sorrow so profound it choked me. I pitied the child I had been, the one who had spent years yearning for acceptance, for love, for the basic human connection that every child deserves.

It was a crippling realization. Fifteen years of neglect, fifteen years of feeling invisible, of being a ghost in my own home. The memories were raw, agonizing, and the weight of them pressed down on me, a crushing burden of sorrow and resentment.

The memories flooded back, each one a searing reminder of the years of neglect. But as I grappled with the painful truth of my childhood, I couldn't help but think of my family, the ones who had shaped my life, the ones who had, in their own way, contributed to my pain.

My father, Bruce Wayne, was a multi-billionaire playboy in the eyes of the media, a man who seemed to have it all. Yet, behind his charming facade, he was Batman, a vigilante who spent his nights fighting crime, leaving his days consumed by the burdens of his alter ego. He was always busy, always preoccupied, always a figure shrouded in shadows, both figuratively and literally. He was my father, yet he was a stranger, a distant presence who felt more like a mythical figure than a real, living person.

Then there was Dick, my older brother, a whirlwind of happy-go-lucky energy. He was always smiling, always joking, always trying to lighten the mood. But beneath his sunny disposition, his promises were often empty, his gestures more about appeasing than genuine affection. He meant well, but his life was filled with his own struggles, leaving him with little time for genuine connection.

Jason, my second older brother, once held a gentle warmth, a genuine kindness that I craved. But a traumatic incident, a brutal encounter with a villain, had changed him. He had become guarded, cynical, and distant. He was still sweet at heart, but his harsh exterior was a shield he wore to protect himself from further pain.

Tim, the third brother, was brilliant, a master of strategy, a whirlwind of caffeine-fueled energy. He was always working, always planning, always trying to control the chaos around him. He was sharp, insightful, and often sarcastic, but underneath his gruff exterior lay a vulnerability he tried to hide. He was the one who could articulate his feelings, but never seemed to allow himself to be vulnerable.

Damian, my half-brother, was a different breed entirely. He was harsh, aggressive, and constantly seeking to prove his worth. He was the product of a family dynasty, trained in the arts of combat and deception. His coldness was a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself from the world's brutality.

And then there were the others, the ones who were not blood but still part of our strange, fractured family. Stephanie Brown, a vibrant, determined woman with a passion for justice, was like a whirlwind of energy, always buzzing with activity, always trying to help, but her efforts often felt like an attempt to fill a void rather than a genuine connection. Cassandra Cain, a gifted martial artist, was a quiet presence, a shadow in the corner, her communication a series of subtle gestures and a piercing gaze. She was a warrior, a protector, but her own struggles with social interaction made it difficult to forge a true bond with her. Duke Thomas, a young man with a kind heart and a thirst for justice, was a constant source of optimism and hope. He saw the good in everyone, and his attempts to connect with me were genuine, though sometimes awkward.

And then there was Barbara Gordon, a brilliant detective and a kind heart, a figure of strength and resilience. She was a source of wisdom and support for everyone, but her own battles with her past left her with a guarded nature, a sense of caution that made it difficult to truly open up to her.

They were all vigilantes, each with their own reasons for fighting for justice, each carrying the weight of their own burdens. They were my family, yet they were so far away, so consumed by their own battles that they failed to see the child who needed them most.

And then there was Alfred, our loyal butler, a man who truly cared for all of us. He tried to cheer me up, offering me a warm smile and a comforting cup of tea, but he was always busy managing the manor, tending to the needs of the family, and keeping the wheels of this chaotic household turning. He was a constant presence, a rock of stability in a world of constant upheaval, but even he, with his endless kindness and dedication, couldn't fill the void left by my family's neglect.

He tried, he really did. He'd often sit with me in the library, offering me a book or a cup of hot chocolate, but even his kindest gestures felt like an attempt to appease rather than a genuine attempt to connect. He was a servant, a caretaker, and while his love was boundless, it was a love that was always tempered by his role. He couldn't be the parent I longed for, the one who would understand my pain, the one who would hold me close and tell me that everything would be alright.

I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a ghost in a house filled with shadows and secrets. They had adopted others, embraced them with open arms, but I was left on the periphery, a constant reminder of a past they seemed to want to forget. I was the biological child, yet they were so busy fighting their own battles that they never really saw me. It was as if they were all living in a different world, a world where I did not belong.

Their neglect wasn't malicious, not really. It was more a matter of circumstance, a byproduct of their own burdens and struggles. They were fighting for justice, for the greater good, but they had failed to see the small child who needed them most, the one who was simply yearning for a family, for a connection, for a love that felt real and genuine.

So I was left, a solitary figure in a grand house, surrounded by a family who loved me in their own way, but who ultimately failed to see the child who was yearning for something more than a fleeting glance, a hollow promise, or a well-meaning gesture. I was the biological daughter, the one who carried Bruce's blood, yet I felt like an outsider, a phantom in a house filled with shadows and secrets.

The dream had shattered the illusion of a happy family, leaving me with a raw, painful awareness of my own neglect. My heart ached with a longing for the love and attention I had been denied, but a cold distance had settled over me, a shield I wore to protect myself from further hurt.

I became polite, courteous, but distant. I engaged in conversations, listened to their concerns, but my heart remained closed. My responses were measured, my laughter strained, my smiles hollow. I was a ghost in the house, a presence they acknowledged but never truly understood.

Their attempts to make amends felt clumsy, insincere. My father, consumed by his guilt, tried to spend more time with me, but his efforts felt forced, his words empty. He bought me gifts, took me on extravagant outings, but they were never the right gifts, the right outings. He was still Batman, still lost in the shadows, and I was just a small part of a grand, complicated life he couldn't fully comprehend.

Dick, ever the charmer, tried to be more present, to offer his support. He would take me to sporting events, try to share stories of his adventures, but his attempts felt more like a performance than genuine connection. He was always trying to fix things, to make everything alright, but his solutions felt superficial, his efforts misplaced.

Jason, with his cynical exterior, struggled to reconcile his past actions. He tried to be more open, to share his struggles, but his pain was so raw, so overwhelming, that his attempts to connect were more likely to push me away than bring us closer.

Tim, ever the strategist, tried to understand my pain through logic and analysis, but his intellectual approach felt cold, distant. He could articulate my feelings, but he couldn't truly understand the emotional depth of my experience.

Damian, with his usual arrogance, tried to assert his authority, to be a protective brother, but his efforts felt condescending, patronizing. He was still the same impulsive, driven boy, unable to fully grasp the emotional complexity of the situation.

Stephanie, ever the enthusiastic helper, tried to fill the void with her boundless energy, but her constant efforts felt like an attempt to compensate, to fill the silence with noise rather than truly understanding the quiet desperation of my heart.

Cassandra, with her stoic silence, tried to offer her silent support, but her struggles with communication made it impossible to truly connect. Her attempts at affection were often clumsy, her gestures misconstrued.

Duke, with his genuine kindness, tried to create genuine connection, but his awkward attempts felt like a child trying to mend a broken heart with a band-aid. He was a good boy, a caring friend, but he was still young, still learning, and couldn't fully grasp the depth of my pain.

Barbara, with her sharp mind and empathetic heart, tried to understand my pain, but she was trapped by her own demons, her own struggles, and couldn't offer the kind of unyielding support I needed. She was a friend, a confidante, but she couldn't be the mother I had never had.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, continued to offer his unwavering support, his kind words and comforting gestures, but even his best efforts couldn't fully erase the pain.

But as time passed, their efforts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect. They saw the distance in my eyes, the cold politeness in my words, and it was as if a mirror had been held up to their own failings. Their guilt became a palpable presence, a weight that hung over them like a suffocating fog.

They started to grovel, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. My father, the billionaire playboy, the brooding vigilante, stood before me, humbled, his pride shattered. He spoke of his regrets, his failures, the burden of his secrets, but his words were hollow, his apologies devoid of true remorse.

Dick, ever the charming boy, now spoke with a broken voice, his carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of his own guilt. He confessed his failings, his empty promises, his inability to truly connect, but his words felt more like a desperate attempt to regain my favor than a genuine expression of remorse.

Jason, the once gentle soul, now stood before me, his cynicism replaced by a raw vulnerability. He confessed his inability to cope, his inability to offer the love I needed, and his pain was real, but his attempts to make things right were overshadowed by his own self-preservation.

Tim, ever the strategist, now spoke with a quiet desperation, his analytical mind failing to grasp the depth of his emotional failings. He acknowledged his shortcomings, his inability to connect, but his attempts to reason his way out of the situation only served to highlight his inability to truly understand my pain.

Damian, the arrogant boy, now stood before me, his pride swallowed by a crippling sense of shame. He confessed his cruelty, his inability to offer genuine affection, and for the first time, his words were not tinged with defiance but with a raw vulnerability.

Stephanie, the vibrant, determined woman, now stood before me, her energy drained, her spirit humbled. She confessed her misguided efforts, her attempts to fill a void with noise rather than genuine understanding, and her voice trembled with a mix of regret and self-reproach.

Cassandra, the stoic warrior, now stood before me, her silent gaze filled with a depth of remorse that even her limited communication couldn't mask. She confessed her struggles with connection, her inability to express her feelings, and her gestures, though still restrained, now conveyed a genuine depth of sorrow.

Duke, the young man with a kind heart, now stood before me, his awkward attempts to connect replaced by a genuine sincerity. He confessed his lack of understanding, his inability to offer the support I needed, and his words were laced with a genuine desire to make things right.

Barbara, the brilliant detective, the empathetic friend, now stood before me, her sharp mind failing to find the words to express the depth of her regret. She confessed her own struggles, her inability to be the mother I had never had, and her voice was filled with a pain that resonated with my own.

Alfred, ever the loyal servant, now stood before me, his usually stoic facade replaced by a genuine concern. He confessed his inability to fully understand my pain, his inability to be the parent I needed, and his eyes were filled with a deep sorrow for the child I had become.

They all groveled, begging for my forgiveness, pleading for a chance to make things right. But their words were hollow, their actions insincere. I had become a symbol of their collective guilt, a reminder of their failures, and their desperate attempts to mend the broken bridges only served to highlight the depth of their neglect.

I was no longer the same child, the one who yearned for their attention, their love. I had become a stranger to myself, a shell of the person I once was. I had grown up in a house full of shadows, surrounded by a family who loved me but who ultimately failed to see me.

The damage was done, the wounds too deep. I had learned to survive without them, to create a world of my own where their neglect couldn't touch me. But the scars remained, a constant reminder of the child who had been left behind, the child who had yearned for a love that never came.

I looked at them, at their humbled faces, their desperate pleas, and I felt nothing. No anger, no resentment, no desire for revenge. Just a deep, profound indifference. They had hurt me, but they had also taught me a valuable lesson: the only love that truly mattered was the love I could give myself.

And so, I turned away, leaving them to their guilt, their apologies, their desperate attempts to make things right. I had no need for their forgiveness, no desire for their love. I was free.

boyfriend!jackie thoughts

a/n: here's boyf jackie!! (sfw + nsfw under the cut / mdni)

dating jackie when he’s still a year in his transition so he’s still very new to it all. 

he honestly had some doubts that you would eventually get tired of him but you have proved him wrong. that you’d love and support him no matter what and he’s truly grateful for it!

jackie who’s truly a dork, you catch onto references he would casually say without realizing it from movies that you’ve watched together. 

smoking with him at parties, kissing the buds together while staring into each other’s eyes because he’s just that mesmerized. or maybe if you’re not into smoking, he’d probably tease you ⏤ blowing a plume of smoke at your face while laughing until he starts apologizing.

jackie who shows up with flowers for every date or occasion. anywhere you guys go, he can’t help in holding your hand or having an arm linked around yours. 

jackie still holding onto the heart necklace he got for his birthday, he’s grown attached to it so he’d either keep it or perhaps give it to you as a sort of way of you having a part of him, knowing that ‘his heart is safe’. 

he’s honestly a quality-time kind of partner who likes spending his time with you, either alone or with friends but then again, just with you. either it be hanging out after games, eating at a local diner, or going out to a movie. 

jackie who likes shopping with you, especially when you help him pick out clothes that he’ll like and feel comfortable in. “how about this shirt?” “eh, brown isn’t really my color.” 

when it comes to shots now, jackie hates needles and he struggled a bit in doing them himself but when you come along, you truly make him feel more comfortable and can easily distract him from worrying when you help him. likes it when you place those band-aids that have designs on them (stars, sesame street, or any other show related design from the 90’s). 

he LOVES it when you call him your “pretty boy” or “handsome”, such a huge sap for praise and affection really that you got him smiling. jackie who’s a big cuddler, you could be busy with something like homework and he’d pout, trying to coax you to get onto the bed and take a break just so he could kiss you and nuzzle his head against your neck.

nsfw under the cut. mdni⤵

jackie who’s still a bit nervous about sex but is an absolute freak, though he’s still shy in sharing about his wants despite you knowing he’s a certified pillow prince, no doubt. you don’t mind indulging him in being on the receiving end. 

sweet talking and kissing him will get him so horny, has his hands on you in an instant as he grinds on your lap, tdick painfully hard in his boxers. he really digs the foreplay until he starts whining and begs for you to just fuck him.

jackie who bucks his hips and whines the moment you latch your mouth on his throbbing tdick. you can't help but grin at the sight when you look up and his eyes are all teary and his face is red from how good your mouth feels on him, especially how you work your way in fingering his entrance (after teasing him for a while) and he’s already begging for you to make him cum. “please, please, please-”

jackie who likes being stretched out, he can't live without feeling your cock/strap or fingers inside him ⏤ even if you overstimulate him to the point of tears. but of course, you always shower him with lots of kisses and praises during aftercare because he took it like the good boy he is. 

jackie who loves aftercare because pillow talk is involved and he just likes having those small, sweet moments after getting pounded, always getting so sleepy and clingy afterwards. taking baths together with those scented candles that remind you both of warm pastries and honey. 

now imagine this, daring jackie to top you one night and he takes it up since he’s curious. unsure on how to use a strap and really does ask for reassurance if he’s fucking you good, he needs to know! he’ll start off sloppy but you actually like it and keep on spurring him on with praises which delves into him rutting against you with a newfound desperation (service top jackie too).

God sending his silliest soldier:

cheerleader captain with THAT football team captain?

miss you jackie :((

jackie who still sticks to soccer when she goes to college.... i could be misreading ur entire anon but im going with what i originally thought im sorry if you meant something different i just assume ur British or something..

having multiple classes with her and only realizing that she's on the soccer team when it's soccer szn and you guys cheer them on during their first home game. it quickly becomes your favorite sport. always making sure to tell her in class how good she was and congratulating her team on their wins :) she tells you that she couldn't do it without your cheering her on which makes you blush. slowly becoming more than classmates and actual friends!!!!

telling her where you work and she shows up to 'buy' things but ends up holding the line up while talking to you about this recent scuffle her teammates have gotten into which is making her brain hurt. you understand completely, as you're the captain of your cheerleading squad. thinking of her mentioning how good you look in normal clothes instead of your cheerleading outfit, but she does miss it. you don't know what she means by it.

cheerleader!r and soccer captain!jackie who sneak off to makeout when they're supposed to be holding meetings for their team after practice. you somehow always forget to send that "sorry! had to cancel today's meeting" text because jackie's pulling your phone out of your hand and pulling you onto her lap. sometimes you convince her to cut it short and you walk her to the soccer field before going to your own meeting, feeling crazyy at her swollen lips as she tries to act normal and pump up the girls.

being a cheerleader for another college and meeting jackie at a rival game.... ur teammates clock it very quickly and make fun of you for having a crush. you're so thankful that your college's soccer team plays them a couple more times throughout the season 😭 trying to befriend her and coming up to her before the game, wishing her good luck and asking for her number which actually works. it sucks that she lives so far away though. jackie who sends you photos of her at other games, saying she wishes you were here to cheer her on </3

cheer captain!r and jackie where you both kind of have a thing for the other in their outfit.... she, of course, loves when you're in that skirt. you, on the other hand, have kind of just been pavloved into liking her soccer uniform because of how often you mess around while she's practicing. she also loves stealing ur varsity jacket and Loves making out in it. has definitely helped you get ready in the morning and purposefully put you in her Taylor varsity jacket too.

doing routines for her!!! asking her if it's good enough or if you should practice more. jackie who comes and watches you practice too!!! she's the MOST supportive gf. when you're cheering for another team and she's able to go, she shows up with flowers and makes a sign to hold up when you guys are on 😭

Setting: Stark Tower. Stark Lab. 3:45 PM.

Security Alert:

⚠️ UNIDENTIFIED LIFEFORM HAS BREACHED TONY STARK'S PRIVATE LAB. WARNING: EXTREME LEVELS OF CUTE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Tony (spinning in chair): Probably Bruce Banner bringing another radioactive cactus or somethin'—

FRIDAY: “Sir, she’s about three feet tall, chewing your arc reactor prototype, and has hair clips shaped like bats.”

Tony (freezes): …Oh no.

Cut to: Toddler!Reader in her glitter boots, oversized bat hoodie dragging behind her like a cape, smudged jelly on her face, holding Tony’s repulsor glove like a juice pouch.

Reader: This button go pew pew, yes?

Tony (immediately melting): Oh my GOD. I am adopting this child. BRUCE. BRUCE, SHE'S PERFECT.



Tony (to Bruce): She’s 3. She hacked my suit, bonded with Thor's hammer, and renamed my AI “Sparkle Jarvis.” Bruce: You know what this means, right? Tony: …Yeah. Both: She’s the new team leader now.



🔔 Meanwhile… at the Batcave 🔔

Bruce (staring at empty crib): …She’s gone.

Dick (checking monitors): Last ping was in New York… wait. Is that Stark Tower??

Jason (loading guns): Alright boys, we ride at dawn.

Tim (cracking knuckles): She hacked a plane, didn’t she?

Damian (sharpening a batarang): Toddler or not, she’s a Wayne. Of course she did.





🧃Back at Stark Tower…

Reader (curled in Tony’s lap): Can I haf dis shiny room, Mistah Iron?

Tony (already installing a mini juice bar): You want it? Done. It’s yours. I’ll throw in a hoverboard and a baby suit.

Steve (muttering): We’re just letting toddlers own rooms now?

Natasha (watching her draw on Tony’s screens with markers): I’m not stopping her.





Cue the Batfam busting into the lab like SWAT with daddy issues.

Bruce (panting): HAND. HER. OVER.

Tony (shielding Reader with a lab coat): She’s drawing me with a crown and lasers. You can’t take this away from me.

Jason: She already has a family!

Tony: Yeah well she’s clearly the smartest Wayne and deserves joint custody!

Damian: I WILL END YOU, STARK.

Reader (waves from behind a pile of bubble wrap): Hi Batboys :D I made a spidah with wires!

Peter Parker (swinging down): I helped! She said I’m her favorite bug!

All Batboys simultaneously: betrayed





✨ BONUS ✨

Bruce (dead serious): Name your price, Stark.

Tony: She said I was her hero.

Bruce (flinches): …She’s three. She lies.

Tony: She meant it.

Toddler!Reader (yawns): Can I go nap now?

Clint: We have a nap pod!

Dick: WE HAVE A BAT-BED!

Sam: We have waffles??

Reader (gasps): …I stay wif da waffles.

Keep reading

✨ BONUS ✨

Thor (appears out of nowhere, kneels in front of her): Little one. Will you accept Mjölnir as your teething ring?

Reader: Only if it pink.

Mjölnir: literally glows pink

Everyone: 😳

Tony (to Bruce): She’s 3. She hacked my suit, bonded with Thor's hammer, and renamed my AI “Sparkle Jarvis.” Bruce: You know what this means, right? Tony: …Yeah. Both: She’s the new team leader now.

A/N: I need therapy...

Smalltown!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfamily: Part One - Rewrite

A/N: I got stuck on the action scenes in Part Nine and decided Hey, I should rewrite the earlier parts since my writing has improved. Only to realized, a lot of shit went down in those earlier parts. lol. help. This is 4.6k words and I have to make into two parts because so much happened.

Link to the Original Part One.

Warning: Parental Death, talks of grief, Bruce being an obsessive and cryptic mf, Alfred being a bit delulu, attempted GN!Reader.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You had a happy childhood. You know that. You've always known that. People had repetitively said it to you. Over and over again. Blessed. Lucky. Privileged. Not just with material things, but with affection and talents. And, it seemed to increase as you got older and the circle of people you interacted with slowly began to expand and bubble around you. Sure there were some struggles. Some terrifying and suffocating moments. But, life was good.

You were quite serious as a child when you were told to be grateful for what you had. You'd say that mind et helped you retain some level of humility. But, in reality, you were grateful because you were selfish and didn't want to lose what you had. Not even for something better. You had enough. You could make the rain fall or the sunshine or even make a snowman on a hot summer day. And, you were loved. What more could you want?

The children's stories about being greedy stuck with you. So, being a little selfish was fine, but being greedy was not.

Besides, there was nothing to be greedy for. You had loving parents, lived in a wonderful community. Fresh air, good food, good clothes. An annoying, but lovable little brother.

Life was practically perfect.

I mean, sure, you had to live with the knowledge that Daddy wasn't your real father. It wasn't something that had been hidden from you. You knew, you were told. He loved you all the same and spoiled you almost as much as he did your Momma.

The way he loved you was without question. You might have thought he would have been weirded out when you discovered you were a meta, but out of everyone in the town and in the family, he had been your rock. He'd been the one to sit with you when you struggled not to make it rain in the house. When you accidentally shot off lighting when you sneezed. When your crush said you looked cute and a snow flurry followed you around for three days.

But, there was the fact that you just wanted to know who it was. Daddy even agreed that you should have been told who the man was. Not that even he knew. He didn't care about knowing who the man was. He'd probably just thank him for giving him such a blessing before containing to enjoy his easy going life.

You weren't greedy with it. In fact, you had dropped the topic after months of asking.

So why did everything fall apart if you didn't commit the sin of greed?

Why were you standing over two graves in the back of the family property surrounded by your loving town?

You couldn't muster the will to let rain fall. Rain was your delight. A delight you shared with Momma and Daddy. With them gone, seemed the only thing to fall was you and Lukie-boy's tears.

Condolences and condolences. You knew everyone meant well, but right now all you wanted was to curl up in Momma and Daddy's bed with your little brother and bury yourself under the covers. Just pretend this was a nightmare.

You didn't care that you were almost an adult, the grief left you feeling strangely like a child.

Nana had taken over most of the proceedings. While Granddaddy kept you and Luke close. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning into him. Being reminded to the silently way Daddy would hold you. Nana had a tendency to be overbearing and she was even more so today as she fluttered about Luke and you with concern.

You had to remind yourself she was also burying her son, and that made you hold back your tongue and most of your tears.

It wasn't until everyone moved back to the church building for some food that you felt the shift in the atmosphere. One you know you hadn't caused yourself with your lack of energy at the moment.

There was a man. He wore a sharply fitted black suit. Faintly you heard Mae mutter that it was Tom Ford in the same tone she used when speaking about her fabric and bugs.

You didn't recognize him. In fact, no one seemed to recognize him. That was until you really looked at him and you meet his gaze with your own solemn one.

Everyone said you were a sweet child. But, Mae was your best friend and she had little filter on her thoughts. And, you recall what she had said to you once after that long forgotten incident in the bayou a few years back.

"When you frown, when your eyes narrow, when your nose wrinkles in anger and annoyance, you're entire face reminds me of a dark and stormy night. Like from the stories. Even when your eyes glow, there's a shadow sometimes."

You had seen what she was talking about in the mirror once. Had wondered who it was you had gotten that from. It wasn't from Momma, or MawMaw, or Gab. But, you remember the way your Momma would sometimes look at you when you got like that. The way she'd poke your sides until it went away or held you close until it melted it off.

You didn't know who you got it from back then.

You did now.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Bruce had hoped this day would come, but not like this. Not in a way that felt like history repeating it's self once more.

Two people dead, but this time two children left.

He wasn't even meant to get the call from what he knew. It was an accident. Something he was grateful for when he pushed that DNA test on Adeline all those years ago. A social worker, fresh to the field, called the manor. Luckily, Alfred had picked up the call. And, right when Bruce had walked down the steps, nearly missing the last one when he saw the expression on his face. One he has seen a few times before.

"Yes, he's just come down. I'll inform him myself, and he will be there promptly. No, no, travel will not be an issue. Thank you, Ma'am. Have a pleasant evening." The elderly man's voice remained stoic and composed, but Bruce watched him lean all his weight onto the decades old accent table enough for him to hear both, the bones of his Butler and the table, creek.

Alfred pressed a hand to his face, only letting out a sigh when he wanted to curse. Curse the word. Curse the Wayne name, curse the blood. Just scream at the cursed world. But, he didn’t.

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Bruce. His son. Knowing that this would break another piece of him once more.

"Ms. Adeline and her husband have passed."

Bruce's reaction is immediate as he moves in a rush. "The children-"

"Alive and well. Or, as well as they may be, all things considered," Alfred manages to finally take a weary breath before letting out an exhausted exhale.

"Drunk driver. Ms. Adeline and her husband had been on a date that evening. The children had been home. They pulled the car from one of the swamps this morning after a fisherman spotted it. It- It appears Ms. Adeline was rendered unconscious during the crash. And, Mr. Anderson drowned trying to unbuckle her." The old butler manages to keep a slightly even tone when speaking. Relaying the information he managed to garnish from the young social worker.

For Bruce it was a tragic sigh of relief. You were alright, but not alright. Tragedy had struck you, but not taken you.

"I'll be leaving to get-"

"The young Jean-Luc is already set to stay with his grandparents. But, the courts deemed you fit to take custody of our-" Alfred coughs, catching himself.

"Understood." Bruce grits his teeth. He doesn't want to separate siblings, but maybe you being around your other siblings will be enough. Besides, he can petition for custody. Surely an elderly couple would prefer their grandson stay with his closest relative?"

"I'll have my secretary arrange a flight out and clear my schedule. We need to cover all press leaks as well." Batman was in control now, already coming up with a plan and mentally coming up with a new patrol roster for the coming few days while he heads towards the cave.

"Alfred, prepare a room for them, please." He also asks, knowing the older man would need something to do unless Bruce wanted him to nearly exhaust himself by cleaning the manor top to bottom.

"Which room, sir?"

Bruce pauses to consider the options in the manor. Most of the rooms having been filled by the others or are in need of repair.

But, one does pop into mind.

"The Madam's Room."

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

During the flight to that little backwater town in Louisiana, Bruce passes the time with his own thoughts. It's only a four hour flight by private jet, but, for a man like him, playing with the thoughts in his head can be dangerous.

The 'what if's linger in his mind. The few times he's allowed himself to stare at you through the screen of the Bat computer on your birthday. The occasional way he'd let his eye's linger on Adeline. Noting how she's aged like wine. How she remained soft and warm in each image and her only wrinkles were faint and clearly from sunshine and laughter. Faintly he could hear it echo even now. The throaty sound added to the list of things that haunt him.

Sometimes his eyes would linger on Jean-Luc in those rare instances. The boy an exact replica of his mother, with her warm brown eyes and curls. Sometimes, he'd pretend they were dark blue like his own. But, only for a second before he wiped to computer's hard drive and replaced it with another one.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Your feelings over the entire matter were… complicated. You certainly didn’t expect to find out your biological father was one of THE richest men in the entire world.

But, it was just such an odd situation.

You had wondered about him, yes. But, you didn’t want to leave everything behind in your hometown.

Nana had thrown an absolute fit about him taking you. It was almost terrifying to watch the sweet woman you loved practically spittle with rage. Though in her defense, he had offered to take Lukie-boy too. Like an added bonus. Apparently he collected orphans judging from your quick google search in the bathroom after his arrival. Guess that means you fit his criteria now.

You had flinched when he’d done that. You understood he was trying to keep the two of you together - you did appreciate that, but the dirt over Momma and Daddy’s graves had barely settled before he’d made the offer in that almost posh accent of his.

It had soured things a bit, but you tried. You had tried.

Reassuring Nana that you’d call her every week helped her cope a bit. Telling her you’d promise to keep her updated helped soothe her some. And, asking her that she help by just focusing on Luke seemed to bring her back to reality.

Though she did grumble and get that terrifying look in her eyes when your family lawyer, one of the town residence explained that a new social worker had made the call to him accident. That same look that made Momma weary and Daddy's face age. But, they weren't here any more so there was only you to watch with furrowed brows.

Instead you hugged Luke, kissed his curls like Momma used to only to the be pulled into tight embraces and firm grips by nearly everyone you knew before boarding the private jet with your father.

It felt weird to say father.

Daddy was dead. Drowned and buried and in the dirt. Yet, here was your father. You didn't want to replace Daddy.

You also didn’t know how to react. How to handle this new father. And, you guess neither did he. Since for the first two hours of your flight to Gotham city, the man was completely silent. So instead you decided to look for similarities. Already you found one.

Momma had a thing for the quite type, you decided.

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Bruce couldn't really bring himself to say anything. To see you in person finally after all the years, made something in him break and the pieces collide back together suddenly. He's seen still shots with the highest quality imaging. Videos and audios with the best equipment money could by or he could create.

But, there was something different about watching you breath and blink in real life. No need to rewind and watch the footage again. To pretended he was there in those moments. He had you here beside him now. His baby.

And, you were beautiful.

Just as beautiful to him as you were in the first image he'd received of you in that clear hospital nursery cradle. He stands by his previous thoughts. You had his mother's eyes. And, now grown you had even more of his mother's features, blended together with your own mother, of course. Something he strangely found himself grateful for. A small reminder that he had once held a softer woman once. Even if he ended up letting her go.

But, he was afraid. This was a different fear than when he was introduced to Damian. Damian had been a surprised, not entirely un-welcomed. But, Bruce knew Damian was expecting Batman as his father. You were expecting Bruce Wayne. And, Bruce Wayne as a father didn't exist.

The media may say otherwise, but it was an act. And, he couldn't give you an act. He wouldn't. He wasn't going to lie to you. But, he needed you to be safe. Especially now. Especially when you had such sad eyes and a frown like his own on your face from a loss he deeply understood, but couldn't help you with. Not in the way you needed. Your hands were far to delicate for justice.

He'd already made plans to track down the driver that knocked Adeline and her husband into the bayou as you called it. He could see the way you shudder and how your eyes would water each time your mother and step-father's drowning was mentioned. Something he desperately wanted to ask about. A fear he could sense that he so deeply wanted to understand.

Instead, he finally broke his silence after you both were halfway to Gotham.

"Don't worry about being introduced to everyone right away. I want you to take some time to get acclimated to the Manor. Settle in a bit and find a new routine." He finally said, hiding the rough raw emotions he was feeling from sheer will power.

"I appreciate it, sir." Hearing you drawl even though your voice was hoarse was something Bruce found himself taking a deep breath over. Letting it sink in.

"You don't have to call me 'sir'. I know you have manners and all that, but you can call me," Father, Dad - give him the title he desperately wants, "Bruce. If you'd prefer."

"Understood, sir-- I mean, Bruce." You trail off, awkwardly. The silence filling the air. The jet was clearly one of the fancier breeds, considering you couldn't even hear the engines and use them as white noise.

"Um, what's Gotham like?" You finally decided to ask. Crossing your ankles in and attempt to relax while your eyed drift towards him again.

His eyes strangely seem to light up at your question, though a frown tugs at his lips.

"It is, in short summary, dangerous. There a lot of crime in the city. You'll defiantly be staying in the manor after dark."

You try ignore how he's instantly ordering you around. Like your not seventeen. Like you didn't just leave a loving home where you were allowed to float on the breeze through the bayou's trees at whatever hour you pleased. Things were going to be different, and you'd accept that. For now.

"What's the manor like?" You decided to ask instead. Concluding it was a fairly safe question.

"Oh, I think you'll like it." Was all he said while smiling warmly.

Already you wanted to smack him. You wanted conversation, not to talk to a damn cryptic.

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You should’ve taken Bruce’s ambiguous nature at face value for what your life was about to become.

Quite.

You wouldn’t have minded too much, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were stuck inside Wayne Manor while Bruce got all the paperwork set up for your fancy new school and the fact that he wanted to ease you into things at a snails pace.

Though you wouldn’t forget about the overwhelming nature of the entire situation. Looking up at the veritable brick castle of multiple styles you’d seen throughout decades of different architectural trends. The only comment you had gotten from him when you asked about it was that it had been in the Wayne family for over a century while he smiled proudly. Like that single sentence was enough to fill the silence.

You didn’t like silence.

Even when you were alone, you liked to listen. To music, to the wind, to raindrops, to the cicadas and crickets chirping back home. Not hollow echoing silence.

What made it worse was that Bruce practically disappeared after he introduced you to the family butler. A kindly old man that already gave you a fond look as you toddled after like a helpless newborn duck still learning how to swim and trying not to drown. His smile growing even wider when you asked your polite questions about the history of the manor, wanting to feel some familiarity if you were going to be stuck in these dark wood paneled hallways with red carpets.

Apparently, the house castle was built in the Colonial period. Fascinating, when were the gargoyles added then? Keep talking, please. You didn’t want to deal with thoughts of your grief and loneliness.

It was up two flights of stairs that you really got hit with the reality of your situation.

You remember the soft greens and earthy tones your mother was fond off when decorating your childhood home. The white trim that caught the light from the windows. The light oak wood floor that somehow felt softer than the carpets here. Even in the shadowed corners the most dangerous thing you’d find was a dust bunny. Your own room filled with dusty blues and soft whites and greys like a cloudy sky.

Here, you were hit with RED.

So much red. Dark floral wallpaper, that you’d admit was gorgeous in its vividness. But, it almost overwhelmed you. Not even the cream colored sheets and curtains could make it any less underwhelming.

“This is the Madam’s Room. Primarily, it’s been used as a closet and dressing room by previous ladies of the house. An example being your late-grandmother. I’ve taken the liberty of having her portrait hung over the mantel with your great-grandmother also having her portrait in here as well.” You couldn’t even be upset by the hint of pride in the man’s voice. The room was beautiful, tastefully decorated. Charming. Sophisticated. Historical. A million different of fancy words. But, it wasn’t home.

“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth, sir.” You murmured looking around the room while giving him your best attempt at a smile.

Your eyes catching the aforementioned portrait over the fireplace. The breath in your chest catching. Everyone always said you looked like Momma just with different eyes and a few other little things. They didn’t feel so little now. You looked too much like the woman in the portrait. Way too much like her.

“My own room is right across the hall in case you need anything else, my dear. Please, do not hesitate to ask. And, most importantly, you are more than welcome to call me Alfred.” You snap out of your thoughts and let your manners take over, smiling politely and nodding along.

“Thank you, Mr. Alfred, sir. I most appreciate it.” You hide behind a grateful tone that seems to make him look at you with an even fonder expression.

“I’ll let you to get settled in then, my dear. Feel free to add your own touches and take it easy. Everyone else is out of the manor at the moment so don’t worry about having to entertain any questions for the time being.”

God, you’d rather answer the most invasive questions in existence than be alone right now in such an unfamiliar place. But, you smile anyway.

“Thank you, again. I really do appreciate it, sir.” Are your finally words before your left alone and the thoughts creep in.

It isn’t until you’re unpacking a few of the little things you grabbed from your room and the clothes that don’t even begin to fill the closet that it hits you. Your little happy lightning cloud pillow looking like a children’s toy on the pillows. It technically is one, but seeing it makes you realize you don’t really feel like a child anymore. Though you still cling to it as you cry softly.

You don’t bother causing it to rain.

Instead, it’s noted by those on patrol, how that particular Gotham night is unusually warm.

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Alfred felt unfortunately blessed. Bruce wanted to ease the poor child into life in Gotham, but just from how overwhelmed they were he could tell it was not going to be like any of them expected things to go.

But, it was nice. Pleasant to have someone that just wanted to lightly talk without the long history of patching up their skin and mending their bones to contact them. He would admit he thought often of Martha.

Alfred could easily conclude he was growing sentimental. But, he excused that. It was common at his age. Instead he just enjoyed your company while Bruce had the rest of the family hold back their introductions.

Though really. Bruce’s antics were a little less amusing this time around. Waiting until you were in the house and settled into bed before abruptly calling a family meeting to announce your presence? He doesn’t blame the others for being outraged. They should have at least been informed before you arrived. Though, he supposed it was for the best. It would have to do now, regardless.

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“Alright, B-man. What’s this about? No one’s escaped Arkham, and I have Alfred’s birthday marked on my phone’s calendar. So this better be important.” Jason had sat back in one of the caves chairs, possibly Tim’s judging from how he kept giving him a dirty look for creating his feet near some tech junk on the metal counter in front of him.

“What about the rest of our birthday’s?” Steph had to ask, grinning at him from her own perch next to weapons rack.

“Not as important.” Jason dismissed with a wave of his hand causing her to snicker. Duke also chuckled from his own seat, before sat more at attention. Or, at least as much as he could considering he was just about to head out on patrol.

"Didn't include your own birthday in that?" Dick quipped back, stretching the tension from his shoulders after the drive from Bludhaven. He had also picked up Barbara on the way which had added extra time. She had her chair rolled up to one of the tables where Cass was sitting cross legged on.

Only Cass wasn't in a joking mood, she was to busy observing Bruce. Noting the flickers of multiple contradictory emotions in him. Damian's eyes drifted towards her from where he stood at attention. Already suspicion brewing in his gaze at what she could possibly be reading from the family's patriarch.

“Does this have anything to do with that guest your brought to the manor?” Barbara eventually asked, catching everyone’s attention before their heads swiveled to Bruce. A guest meant they had to be careful in the manor, or at least above ground. Below it things were clear to run like normal.

“Great.” Stephanie said dryly, “How long are we going to be running like this?”

“A while.” Bruce finally answered after a moment. For once feeling out of his depth to explain this. As Alfred walking into the cave, he knew it was time.

“I believe they’re asleep now. The poor dear seemed exhausted.” The older man said while taking a seat himself, his eyes solemn and soft.

In a room of raised detectives they caught the look and the way Bruce was acting.

“Really, Father? Another stray? Thomas was bad enough don’t you.” Damian comments with little heat behind his words while Duke gives him a look of mock outrage.

“This one isn’t a stray.” Bruce admits, knowing that Damian was about to take this the hardest.

“You flew to Louisiana for them. A bit far for your usual route?” Barbara questions already rolling away from the table and towards him.

“Did you finally sign up for one of those adoption websites and get an alert?” Jason scoffed a bit.

“No. They aren’t adopted. They’re my biological child. Officially.” He finally announced, wanting to get the worst of it out of the way.

That seemed to stun everyone for a moment. However, Dick was the first to recover. Catching how serious Bruce was being. “Bruce, is this another Damian?”

Damian bristled at the question, but knew Dick didn’t mean anything harmful by it. However his breath did catch when it was Alfred that answered.

“No, Master Bruce was informed of their birth and subsequently had a DNA test done years previous.”

That made everyone’s heads spin. But, not as much as Damian’s.

“You knew about them and, you never told me?” He had meant to say ‘us’, but this was different. This was a blood matter. And, while he knew blood didn’t truly matter to make a family, it did forge a connection between people willing or unwillingly.

“Hold on, is this from the worst of your playboy days?” Barbara asked, trying to wrap her head around it.

“Yes. But, it was a particular woman. None of you meat her, except Jason.”

Heads and eyes and ears turned to him instead, watching for his reaction.

“Don’t look at me, he went through like fifteen women—“

“It was Adeline.”

Oh.

Jason remembered her. Hell, he had actually liked her. She lasted about three weeks longer than all the others. And, she was softer, warmer, with a drawl that he sometimes imagined reading to him. She hadn’t tried to be motherly to him, but it was clear to him she could’ve been. She could’ve been a lot of things.

But, Bruce had thought her too sweet and too good. And, had let her go. Jason had been sad about it. But, not distraught. It really was for the best, he'd thought. She had been to good for Bruce.

However, if he knew one thing, her kid probably had the best childhood in existence. And, away from Bruce to boot.

“The Cajun and Creole southern belle.” Was all he commented, drawing a few raised brows.

“With a bit more... spice than we anticipated. She had won full custody of their child while Bruce had been on a league mission.” Alfred added to the subject. Making Tim whistle a bit.

“Oh, damn. Those lawyers must have been good.” Was all he could find himself adding to the tense conversation.

“So, they’re… normal?” Was Stephanie next inquiry. Already feeling that spark of jealousy in her chest. A normal childhood only to end up with Bruce as your surprise dad? Talk about winning the genetic lottery.

“Yes. They’re ‘normal’. I don’t want them involved with any of our night work. Everyone is to keep it under wraps.”

“Until?”

“There is no until. Keep it under wraps.”

It was then everyone realized, Bruce was willing to throw away their entire routines and make their jobs more stressful just for this person. A person he saw fit not to trust any of them with. A person he was prioritizing over them, and possibly over the mission.

And, that pissed off more than a few of them.

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Taglist:

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A/N: Sooooo, what we think? Improvement, I hope? Don't worry, the neglected bits are coming and Yandere bs going to begin. I'm just tightening things up a bit.

A/N: Here's my Ko-Fi link. (My husband encouraged me to make it for diet coke, my weakness.)